In Shadow - Ch 21 - Running Toward

This hero stuff was hard.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for this, Genie thought as she dragged herself out of bed. Mariah had always been so confident. Mariah didn't wallow in self-doubt and confusion. She'd never been totally out of her depth... apart from the whole thing where she'd gotten involved with the Altos, and that scary Ms. H. Mariah didn't lead her friends into danger... apart from that one night and, really, she and Aadi followed Mariah willingly.

If only I was more like Mariah, Genie thought. Then we wouldn't be right back at the start... with no idea what to do next.

With a heavy sigh, Genie pulled herself up. She had work, and heroism, even if she had been cut out for it, didn't pay the rent.

Lost in her own thoughts, she was halfway across the apartment before she registered raised voices. 

"I just can't believe you would do that without talking to me first!" Gabbie was shouting.

"You're giving me grief about this?!" Anthony recoiled. "Are you serious?!"

Distracted, Genie's first thought was - Oh good, they're both wearing pants. It was followed quickly by - Wait... am I wearing pants?

Having established that at least everyone was wearing pants, Genie's curiosity immediately got the better of her and she tried to unravel what the argument was about.

"Do you understand what kind of opportunity this is for me?" Anthony was saying.

"Of course it looks like a great opportunity," Gabbie snapped back. "I know that... but is it really. I mean, you're just out of college. Do you really think you have a chance?"

"Oh thanks for that!" Anthony groaned. "I know it's a long shot... but the Party could have tapped anyone for Baxter's seat. They chose me. I'm running for Council. Me! Even if lose... and I know I'll probably lose... it's a huge honor just to be nominated. Come on, babe. I need you with me."

"Oh, of course I'm with you, you moron," Gabbie laughed. "Sorry... Councilor Moron."

"Wait, hold on," Genie said. "Anthony... you are the new Unity Party candidate for Council?"

"I know," Anthony grinned. "Crazy, isn't it. They called me yesterday and offered me the nomination. Ms. Ojo said I was a rising star... and they wanted a young, new voice to represent the Party in the election."

"I bet no one else wanted to run after the Llama-man conspiracy nut," Gabbie put in. 

"OK, that was maybe a factor, I'll admit," Anthony said, still grinning. "But, let's not overlook that I am the young, new voice of the Party... at least for the San My Council election."

"Can I get an interview?" Genie asked.

--------------

In another part of San My's Spice District, Jenny Poole was awoken by the persistent ring of her phone.

"Hello," she answered brightly. Even half-awake, she always tried to be cheerful on the phone. One never knew when a director or producer might call with some terrific opportunity, after all.

"What? Who?" she asked, blinking sleep from her eyes. "Oh... Oh! No... no, you're not bothering me. God, I'm so glad you called. Really. Please..."

She paused, listening.

"Look, why don't we meet?" Jenny said after a bit. "Better yet, you can come over here. No, please, it's no trouble. Come. I mean it. I'll text you the address." 

"I'm sorry," Corrie stammered. "I didn't know who to call and Orange said... I shouldn't have..."

"Of course you should," Jenny said softly. She could see the bruises on the younger woman's face. Anger and grief tangled inside her, almost burying the faded memory of what that pain felt like. Pushing it all aside, letting the emotions motivate but not control her, Jenny simply added, "I told Orange to give you my number because I wanted you to call me."

"Why? You... you don't even know me," Corrie said, trying to hide her face.

"Because someone helped me, when I was in a bad spot," Jenny said. "More than once, actually. I've been in a few bad spots... and Cassie was always there to help me out."

"You... you really know Cassie Goth?" Corrie asked weakly.

"Like I said, she's helped me out a few times," Jenny said gently.

"He... he said he knew her," Corrie sobbed. "He said he was going to make me a star."

"Yeah, they say that a lot," Jenny said sadly, taking the younger woman in her arms. "Come inside. I'll see what we've got for breakfast and we can talk."

"He really scared me, last night," Corrie said, sitting nervously on Jenny's couch. "I mean, I've seen him get mad before. He... he gets mad a lot. He'll yell or curse... or he'll get quiet. It's... it's always bad... when he's quiet.

"He was quiet the whole drive back from the club," she continued. "Like really, really quiet. Like, he just looked out the window and didn't say anything. All the way back to the apartment. All the way up in the elevator... just... quiet. I don't even think he really knew I was there. You know." 

"I know," Jenny said, remembering how George had forgotten her, forgotten everything, at the sight of Cassie Goth. Remembering how glad she had been to be forgotten.

"I was so scared," Corrie went on. "Seeing Cassie... oh God, he told me knew her... but it shook him. It really shook him like nothing I've ever seen... and I knew... I just knew, he was going to do something... something to... to..."

"To get control back," Jenny breathed softly.

Corrie nodded, wide-eyed.

"I snuck away," she said. "I left him with Damien. Damien can talk him down sometimes... and I... I couldn't be there. I couldn't."

"It's ok," Jenny reassured her.

"Later, when... when he came to bed he... he wanted me to... to be like Cassie," Corrie stammered. "He says I look like her... that I remind him of her... he wanted me to... to..."

Jenny just nodded, understanding exactly what George T had wanted.

"I... I... I just snapped," Corrie said, clearly shocked with herself. "I... I... I yelled at him. I call him a liar and a... a perv... I told him he didn't know Cassie... Cassie hated him! She would never... never do... do those things with him... and neither would I. I said I knew he would never make me a star."

"He... he pushed me and I... Oh God!" Corrie somehow combined horror and joy in a single wild expression. Softly, she said, "I hit him. I hit him!"

"Wow," Jenny blinked, shocked. "You go girl."

"Well... he hit me back, really hard," Corrie said, looking downcast. "I fought... I really fought, or I tried to but... he's so strong. He's just so strong."

"I know," Jenny said, suppressing an inward shudder. "I know."

"First thing this morning," Corrie continued, "while he was sleeping, I grabbed some clothes and my phone and I called you. I'm sorry, I couldn't think of who else to call. I know Orange gave me the number of a women's shelter but I..."

"It's OK," Jenny said. "It's OK that you called me. We'll figure it out."

"I just..." Corrie started.

She was interrupted by a sudden, loud pounding on the apartment door.

"Oh God!" Corrie shrieked. "He found me!"

"Get in the bedroom... through there," Jenny said quickly. "Stay quiet. Stay in there. I'll handle whoever it is. Don't worry. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Summoning up every ounce of confidence she had ever pretended to have, every breath of cool composure she'd ever seen Cassie Goth wear like a tailor-made dress, and every knife-edged look of savage disdain she'd ever seen the great Judith Ward use to flay the paparazzi, Jenny opened her door.

"Where is she?!" the crewcut man demanded as he pushed into the apartment.

"What do you think..." Jenny gasped out, startled.

"I know Corrie's here," Crewcut snapped. "You'll get her out here right now if you know what's good for you."

"Hey, this is my apartment," Jenny said coolly, quickly recovering her balance. "You don't come barging in here demanding anything!"

"Oh yeah," Crewcut sneered.

"Yeah," Jenny said, then in her best Judith Ward voice she added, "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Jenny Poole," Crewcut grinned. "I've seen your tits on WickedHub."

"Yeah, I'm Jenny Poole," Jenny said, calling on Cassie's cool composure. "I studied under the Raven Witch." The lights in the apartment dimmed. The lingering summer heat vanished so quickly ice rimmed the walls. An otherworldly glow filled the room, deepening rather than driving back the shadows. "You do not come into MY HOME and threaten ME!"

"Problem, Jenny?" Bob asked as the panicked-looking crewcut man shoved past him and disappeared into the elevator.

"I handled it, but thanks Bob," Jenny smiled thinly. "If you see that guy around again, do me a favor and call the cops. Don't approach him or anything. Just go inside, lock the door and call the cops. OK?"

"OK, I can do that," Bob said. "You sure you're OK."

"Yeah," Jenny nodded.

With exaggerated care, she closed her apartment door again. Deep breaths, she thought, pushing down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Why did she always get stage fight after the scene, she wondered.

"Thanks for having my back there," Jenny whispered to the room behind her.

"Always," a voice more felt than heard whispered back.

Living in a haunted apartment has its up sides, Jenny thought with a smile.

In Shadow - Ch 20 - The Raven Witch

Content Warning: brief reference to sexual assault, mature themes, profanity, drug references

"Orange! OhmyGod, hi!" Corrie was so excited she bounced. "Did you see? That's Jenny Poole! Sitting with George. He knows her too!"

Uptown Glass was the GOAT, Corrie thought. The view from the penthouse club's glass walls was amazing. The music was the best and the people... OMG!

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I know. Jenny's a friend of mine," Orange said, trying to get a word in. "Corrie, are you OK? I've been looking for you."

Orange was such a nice guy, she thought. She'd met him after one of George's bad nights and she'd been all weepy. He'd listened to her and even given her a number she could call if she wanted help... but help would mean leaving George, and George was going to make her a star.

"You were?" she said, a little worried because George wouldn't like that. "You really shouldn't..." Suddenly, the thought went completely out of her mind. "Oh my God, OhmyGod, OHMYGOD! Look. Over at our table. It's..."

-----------------

"Cassie Goth," George snarled.

"George," Cassie Goth, the musical superstar and celebrity icon known to the world as the Raven Witch, replied. 

Jenny recognized Cassie's tone as one that might usually be reserved for talking about vomit or maggots. The actress part of Jenny's mind tried to file away that tone, and the accompanying look of utter contempt on the Raven Witch's face, for use in some future role. The rest of her mind was still torn between the rush of relief at her friend and mentor's sudden appearance and the lingering horror of almost losing herself to George T.

"Long time," George said coldly.

Jenny realized he'd forgotten all about her. His eyes, now burning with something that was at once hate and lust, clearly saw only Cassie Goth. Jenny had never in her life been happier to be forgotten. 

"Not long enough," Cassie replied coldly.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't missed me," George's voice became oily and suggestive. His burning eyes flicked briefly to Jenny, plainly seeing her as nothing but an audience. "We were such... intimate... friends back in college."

"We were never friends," Cassie with utter contempt.

"You know, there's a restroom over by the bar," George said with a cruel smile. "Want to slip into it and relive a old times?"

"It wouldn't be the same," Cassie said with a slight smile that didn't fully hide the horror behind her eyes. "I'm not a terrified coed too drunk to fight back... and you got fat." 

Jenny bit back a gasp of sickening understanding. 

"Bitch," George snarled.

"She... she hates him! But he said he knew her?!" Corrie said, eyes wide in disillusioned misery. "He said he could introduce us."

"He's a liar, Corrie," Orange said softly.

"He said he knew her," Corrie insisted. "He was going to introduce us. I did... whatever he wanted... I did... I did things... Oh God, I'm so stupid. I'm just a dumb, worthless whore."

"You're not stupid, Corrie. You're not dumb, or worthless, or a whore," Orange said gently. "George lied to you. He used you."

"But he was going to make me a star," Corrie sobbed.

"But if you really want to revisit old times," Cassie continued, still with that same brittle smile, "I could call Gwen over. I'm sure you're... burning... to see her again." Cassie's eyes dropped to old burn scars peeking out of George's open shirt. "And I know how much she hates to leave things... unfinished."

For a moment, George's cruel face twisted in unmistakable terror. 

Jenny couldn't hide a cruel smile of her own at the sight of the monster confronted by someone he couldn't intimidate.

"Corrie, please take this," Orange said encouragingly, pressing two cards into the devastated young woman's hand. "This one is the number of that women's shelter... in case you lost it. You can call them. They can help you. They can keep you safe."

"He's connected," Corrie said hopelessly. "He'll find me."

"The other one is Jenny Poole's number," Orange continued. "I really do know her. She told me to give you this if I saw you again. So she can help you... like Cassie Goth helped her. Please think about calling them, Corrie. They can help you, if you let them."

"What do you... want... for this?" Corrie asked, not meeting his eyes. "I'll... I'll do..."

"I don't want anything, Corrie, except for you to be safe," Orange said gently. "You shouldn't have to do things like that... with me or anyone... to be safe and happy."

"He's coming," Corrie breathed, sudden terrified. "I have to go. I'll... I'll think about it. I will."

As George stormed away from the little table, Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Are you alright?" Cassie asked softly, lowering herself into the seat George had fled.

"I am now. Thank you," Jenny nodded. "Are you OK?"

Cassie still looked brittle. More brittle than Jenny had ever seen her, more than she had ever even imagined seeing this confident, powerful woman.

"No," Cassie admitted. "I really want a drink." 

"I hear you," Jenny nodded. "I do too... or we could both not throw away years of sobriety over a bastard like George. He doesn't get to win."

"No, he does not," Cassie smiled. "So what about that?" she added, nodding at the packet of pills in Jenny's hand. 

"Christos," Jenny cursed, throwing the packet across the table. "I don't... I didn't... he..."

"I know," Cassie nodded.

The raven-haired woman gave an almost negligent wave of her hand, and whispered a Word. The packet of pills burst into a sudden flare of blue-white flame, leaving only a faint, sooty stain on the tabletop. Jenny blinked in startled awe. Despite her Raven Witch persona, Cassie rarely displayed her genuine magic so openly.

"What were you thinking?" Cassie asked. "Meeting with George Tobar?"

"I had a plan," Jenny said. OK, she thought, it had actually been a terrible plan, but she had had a plan.

"It's my fault," Genie said, as she and Orange approached the table.

"I should have known," Cassie sighed.

"I'm a reporter now," Genie explained. "I'm working on a story about organized crime, and Jenny was trying to help me out by..."

"You're trying to find information that would help Miranda and Mariah," Cassie interrupted. "Let me tell you right now, neither of them would want you... any of you... putting yourself in danger because of them." 

"I just thought..." Genie started.

"I'm sure you mean well," Miranda's mother continued firmly, "but honestly, what would I tell them... or your parents... Genie, Orange... if you get yourself hurt messing around with gangsters."

Jenny exchanged a quick smile with Orange. It was amazing, she thought, how Cassie could switch almost seamlessly from awesome superstar to spooky witch to supportive mentor to stern mom. To think some people still said she only got acting jobs because she was a famous musician.

-----------------

"Well, that was..." Genie said, claiming the seat as Cassie, with a final stern look, left them.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'a complete disaster,'" Jenny offered.

"Yeah, that sounds right," Genie groaned. "I'm so sorry, Jenny. By the time I noticed you were in trouble, Cassie was already there and I..."

"It's OK," Jenny said. "It's OK. It's on me. I should have signaled you sooner... or at all. Honestly, I should have realized how badly seeing George was going to throw me. I thought I could handle it. I was wrong... but it's OK. I'm OK."

“Thank God for Cassie Goth,” Orange said.

“You’re not wrong,” Jenny sighed. “But did you see how shaken she was? She held it together better than I did, but she was really thrown.”

“I couldn’t hear everything, but I got the definite sense she and George have history,” Orange said.

“They would have been at UBrite at the same time,” Genie mused. “She’s been pretty public about having trouble in her last year… alcoholism and self-destructive behavior. She’s talked a lot about getting clean.”

“She’s got twenty-two years clean and sober, and tonight she wanted a drink… as badly as I do right now,” Jenny said. “Whatever happened back then – and I have a pretty good guess – she’s still shaken by it. I was kinda hoping we could get her help once we had more but…”

“We can’t,” Genie said firmly. “We’re on our own. God, maybe she’s right. We’re in over our heads.”

"Oh, we are totally in over our heads," Jenny said with a sudden smile, "but that doesn't mean we should give up!" 

"Absolutely," Orange nodded. "Also, I think we might have gotten through to Corrie."

"I guess that's something," Genie sighed.

"It’s everything," Jenny said firmly. “Cassie has been there for me when I needed her. Now we’re going to be there for Corrie… and for Miranda and Mariah.”

“We’ve got this,” Orange agreed.

In Shadow - Ch 19 - In High Places

Content Warning: misogyny, abusive behavior, mature themes, profanity, drug references

"How do my tits look in this dress?" Jenny asked.

"I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to answer that," Orange said uncomfortably.

It had taken a couple of days, but Terry had come through.

When Jenny had explained her plan to Orange and Genie they had both responded with variations of "are you nuts?" Orange had told them about his own 'meeting' with George T, and pointed out that it hadn't gone very well. Still, neither of them had a better plan. 

"What are you going for?" Genie asked.

"Someplace between classy hooker and slutty nymphomaniac," Jenny said thoughtfully.

"I think you've nailed it," Genie said.

"Can we talk about the aspects of this plan that I am personally uncomfortable with?" Orange put in. 

Jenny felt she was pretty clear on what Orange was uncomfortable about. They still hadn't really defined their relationship, but after his run-in with George, he was obviously feeling protective. Yeah, he was still his supportive and encouraging self, but Jenny sometimes caught a look in his eye that suggested he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and lock her in the bedroom. Which, she thought, could be fun under the right circumstances. Just, not tonight.

"Look, we need information about Max," Jenny said confidently. "George is going to know stuff... probably more than Max would be happy with. Like I told you, they were always competitive. Always trying to one-up each other. The last time we met, I was with Max. No matter what happened back then," she firmly pushed that memory back down, "Max was the one in control. George will love the idea of taking one of his things."

"You're not a thing," Orange muttered.

"You're sweet. I know I'm not a thing," Jenny smiled. It had taken years under Cassie Goth's wing to really believe it, but she did now. "But George doesn't. Trust me, I get him thinking he can have me, after I got away from Max, and he'll be putty in my hands." 

"Which is why you're dressed like a slutty hooker?" Orange sighed.

"Slutty nymphomaniac," Jenny corrected confidently. 

"Classy hooker," Genie added.

"The more he's thinking about getting his hands on my tits, the less he's being suspicious about my motives. His dick will totally override his brain," Jenny grinned. 

"It's a guy thing," Genie said brightly.

------------------------

Uptown Glass was the hot new nightclub in the San My nightlife. A glittering jewel set on the top floors of the fashionable Torendi Tower, it offered overpriced drinks, the hottest local DJs, dancing, a game room, two swimming pools and, most importantly, a chance to be part of the in crowd.

Jenny supposed it wasn't a big surprise that George T had chosen to meet there.

"If you get uncomfortable at all, you'll signal us, right?" Orange asked. 

They'd agreed on a simple hand-sign Jenny could make to let them know she needed backup. It was an old barhopping trick. Genie was already mingling with the crowd, as ready as Orange was to come to Jenny's rescue.

"If I get into trouble, I'll signal," Jenny said, adding softly, "I'm already uncomfortable."

Actually seeing George, sitting across the club, had twisted her stomach far more than meeting with Terry had. Which, Jenny thought, was odd given that Terry had been a bigger part of her life, shamelessly exploiting her naivety and desire to be a star to get her to do things she wouldn't have considered. Still, in his own twisted way, Terry had taken care of her.

She'd only really met George a few times, always with Max. Like she'd told them, Max had always been the one in control. 

Maybe, she thought, she should have known better. When she'd met Max, she'd already gotten away from guys like Terry. Cassie Goth had taken her under her wing, protected her from the predators in executive suits and started to show her that she was worthy of respect.

She'd just started believing that, and then Max had swept her off her feet. All dark charm and sinister glamour, he'd gotten in her head. He'd also gotten her drinking heavily, which Cassie had discouraged, and using hard drugs, which she'd hidden from everyone. 

It was the drugs that had led to Max introducing her to George. 

Looking back now, she wondered if he'd been showing off to both of them. To her, he'd been showing how he was a big time gangster. Bigger and tougher even than this dangerous drug dealer. To George, he'd been showing off his latest conquest. 

Crossing the nightclub floor, she shivered as the memories she'd pushed away earlier came flooding back.

The way George had looked at her, the way he'd treated her... while Max looked on, encouraging it all with a twisted sense of pride... had made her feel cheap and dirty even while she did whatever they demanded. All because she was sure she'd loved Max.

"Jenny Poole," George's harsh voice didn't so much snap her back to the present moment as merge the past and present together like some strange sci-fi thriller. "Don't you look tasty."

"George," Jenny nodded, putting on a smile she'd learned from the great actress and diva, Judith Ward. "It's been a while." 

"It has," George replied with a reptilian smile.

"OhmyGod, you're Jenny Poole," the young woman who must be Corrie said excitedly. "Can I just say, the Urbz is like my favorite show. You're fantastic. I can't believe I'm really meeting you."

"Thanks," Jenny said distractedly.

"Corrie, do something fucking useful and get us some drinks," George commanded.

"Ok George," Corrie replied. "What can I get you?"

"Cherry fizz," Jenny said automatically.

"She'll have a rum and coke," George said firmly. "Make it a double... and get me another whiskey."

"Right away, George," Corrie nodded, rising.

"Great, thanks," Jenny said with mock enthusiasm. Whatever, she thought. I don't need to drink it.

"I heard you wanted to see me," George said, his cold eyes slithering over her body.

"I know it's been a few years," Jenny sighed theatrically. "The show keeps me busy."

"Your message said something about Max V." George's dead eyes flicked to study her face.

"I heard a rumor the bastard was back in town," Jenny said, the heat in her voice more genuine. "I thought, with you being so... connected... and all, you might have heard from him."

"Now, why the fuck would you want to talk to Max V?" George mused, his eyes traveling over her body again.

"I don't," Jenny said firmly. "Fuck him. After what he did, he doesn't get any of this again," she added, arching her back in a way she knew emphasized her chest.

"His loss," George said, openly leering.

"Too damn right," Jenny nodded. "Still, I want to know what he's doing back. If he's going to show up at my door, I want to know... you know? Besides, hearing about him... got me thinking about old times."

"I remember." George actually licked his lips, his eyes crawling over her body. "I remember you being pretty wild, once we got you... relaxed."

"Good times," Jenny smiled, calling on every ounce of her acting abilities. Stay focused, she thought. You can do this.

"So... about Max," she continued. 

"Fuck him," George snorted dismissively. "I'm thinking we should go back to my place and get... reacquainted."

"What about your date?" Jenny said, trying for a flirty smile. Maybe the dress had been too much, she thought. "Corrie, was it?"

"What about her?" George chuckled. "She won't bother us. Maybe we can even have her join us. That could be a lot of fun."

"Maybe," Jenny said, trying to keep the growing tension off her face. She knew she was losing her grip on this conversation, knew she should probably signal Orange. "But..."

"I remember how to turn your maybe into yes," George leered, casually pushing a small packet of pills across the table. "Best quality. You remember how they made you feel."

"Yeah," Jenny's breath caught in her throat. 

She remembered. Three years clean and sober, and she still woke up some nights craving that feeling. 

She watched, horrified, as her own hand snatched up the pills. Three years clean and sober. The pills, washed down with the rum and coke that Corrie would bring back any moment. Three years clean and sober. No worries. No fear. No shame. Just floating, shiny, in waves of pleasure. 

She remembered. She was drowning in memories. 

"Jenny." 

The woman's voice was soft and powerful, a singer's voice laced with the relaxed, smoky accents of Willow Creek. By only saying her name, somehow that voice wrapped itself around Jenny's desperately floundering soul and pulled her gently back toward safety.

"Cassie Goth," George snarled.

In Shadow - Ch 18 - Low Friends

Content warning: partial nudity, drug references

Jenny had a plan.

It wasn't a particularly good plan, she admitted to herself. This hero stuff was a lot easier when someone handed her the script and the director gave her notes. 

At least, with the show still on hiatus, she didn't have an early call. She wasn't sure how she'd be able to help Orange and Genie and do sixteen hours on set. She loved being an actress, loved being a success, but it was exhausting sometimes.

Firmly ignoring the bursts of static coming from her old stereo, Jenny headed for the bathroom. She had a lot to face today and just wasn't up to dealing with that. Everything would look better after a shower.

A shower and an omelet. Everything looked better after a shower and an omelet. 

OK, it still wasn't a particularly good plan. No... actually it was a good plan. It just wasn't a comfortable plan. It wasn't a plan that made her happy. It certainly wasn't a plan she wanted to explain in any detail to Orange. He had a protective streak. Yeah, he wasn't pushy. She didn't think he'd tell her what to do, or not do... but still. He wouldn't like the plan. That was kind of... nice actually. He was nice. 

Glancing over at the rattling kitchen cabinets, she bit back the urge to yell. Really, was all the radio static and rattling supposed to help? All it did was remind her about her apartment's other tenant. Yeah, technically she was the only person who lived here... but she wasn't alone.

Wait, she smiled. She wasn't alone!

----------

It had taken more calls than she'd thought, but eventually she tracked down the person she needed to talk to. They arranged a meeting that evening, at the Old Salt House. She certainly wasn't letting him into her apartment. Not again. 

Enter The Creep, stage left.

Five years hadn't changed Terry Stone much. He still wore loud shirts and tinted glasses. He still had that dumb mustache and that same bad toupee. Even the knot twisting in her stomach at the sight of him was familiar. 

Terry Stone. 

He was one of those guys who lurked on the fringes of the Del Sol Valley studios, offering "opportunities" to young actresses. Five years ago, he'd done that for a naive kid then called Jennifer Parker from Rangerville, and little Jennifer Parker been thrilled at any chance to break into the industry.

Terry had helped Jennifer Parker start down the road to become Jenny Poole. He'd encouraged her. He'd introduced her to some of the right people.

Of course, he'd also "helped" her to "relax" and prepare for her early gigs. Some things, she'd discovered, were easier to agree to, easier to do, when you were high.

It could have been a lot worse, Jenny thought.

Sure, he was a sleazy creep, but Terry wasn't mean or cruel. He never hurt her, or even threatened her. Sure, he gave her drugs, but not really hard drugs. OK, those early "screen tests" for Terry weren't exactly what she'd imagined herself doing when she left her dusty little town out west, but even they could have been a whole lot worse.

In the end, he really had helped her break into the industry. He'd helped her get the Salty Suds ad campaign, which had started everything for her.

"Jenny Poole." Terry greeted her warmly, but his eyes looked shifty. "What brings a big star like you down from the heavens?"

"Hey Terry," Jenny said with equally false warmth. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Now, Jenny, you remember you signed releases," Terry said hastily. "I had every right to sell those pictures to WickedHub."

"Hell, Terry, is that what you're worried about?" Jenny rolled her eyes. 

"Well, some big time actresses don't properly appreciate being reminded of their early work," Terry said.

"You're a slimeball, Terry," Jenny said. "But, as it happens, I actually do like those pictures... and it's not like you're the only guy with nudes of me. Come, sit. I've got something else I wanna talk about."

As Terry took the seat across the table from her, Jenny felt her stomach unclench. It was like realizing that she really understood a part, that she could really nail a scene. Only the part was her actual life, and the scene was real.

"So, what can this slimeball do for a big time actress like Jenny Poole?" Terry said brightly. 

He really didn't seem to mind being called a slimeball. Terry knew who and what he was. He had his place in the industry hierarchy, Jenny realized, and he embraced it. 

"I'm looking for somebody," Jenny said. "I'm hoping you can arrange a meeting."

"I might be able to help," Terry said. "I've got some new talent."

"Not new talent. Not today," Jenny said, but filed the thought away. Cassie Goth had once helped to lift her out of Terry's world. Maybe she could do the same thing for someone. It was an idea to be pursued, when she had a chance. 

"I'm looking for George T," Jenny added.

"Oh Jenny," Terry sighed. "I thought you did the rehab thing. Got clean."

"Don't worry about that," Jenny said confidently. "You know him. I know you know him."

"I know him," Terry sighed. "But Jenny, if you're looking for a fix, I've got other sources. Safer sources."

"I need to meet with George T," Jenny said firmly. "I need you to set it up."

"Jenny, I know you did a little partying with these gangsters a couple of years ago," Terry said. "I keep track of my girls, even after they move on."

"So you can resell our old nudes when we hit it big," Jenny snorted.

"You wound me," Terry grinned. 

"But Jenny, listen to me," Terry continued. "Guys like George T aren't safe to be around at the best of times, but what I hear is, since Nick Alto went inside, that world has gotten a lot more dangerous. There's a lot of bad stuff going on. The old guard, like Nick, had a code. Yeah, they were bad guys, but they had rules. These new gangsters, like George T, are just brutal. You shouldn't be messing with them."

"Can you arrange a meeting or not?" Jenny pressed. 

"Maybe," Terry admitted reluctantly. "What do I say it's about? He's not big on social calls, even from big time actresses."

"He'll meet with me," Jenny said. "Just tell him I want to talk about Max V and old times."

"This isn't a movie, Jenny," Terry warned. "Nobody is going to shout 'cut' if the scene goes wrong and George doesn't put blanks in his gun." 

"Are you worried about me, Terry?" Jenny asked, a little surprised.

"I always worry about my girls," Terry said with what Jenny realized was complete sincerity, or at least as close to it as a guy like Terry could get. In his own twisted way, he really did care. 

"Arrange the meeting," Jenny said firmly.

"OK," Terry sighed. "I'll make a few calls and I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Terry," Jenny smiled. "You're a slimeball, but I knew I could count on you... and don't worry, I can handle myself."

"I hope so, Jenny," Terry smiled. "I'll get it done. Anything for you."

The plan, step one, accomplished, Jenny thought.

She was actually very pleased with herself. She'd been worried about meeting with Terry. Worried about the old memories it would dredge up. It hadn't been that bad.

Terry hadn't really changed... but she had. With the help of good friends and a real mentor, she'd outgrown him. 

"You OK?" An older man's voice interrupted her thoughts. 

"I am," Jenny said with a smile. "Thanks for being there, Bob."

Bob was an older guy, a divorcee who lived down the hall from her. He'd been a friend almost since the day she moved in. She really hadn't felt comfortable asking Orange to back her up. She wasn't really ready for him to know about Terry, or little Jennifer Parker from Rangerville for that matter. She also hadn't felt comfortable meeting Terry alone. 

Bob hadn't hesitated. 

"Anytime," Bob said.

"I really appreciate it," Jenny said as she pulled out her phone. "You mind? I need to make a quick call."

Voicemail. Damn it, has she even turned her ringer back on?

"Genie, I think I've got us a lead."